Do Not Tell Mother
by Vol lady
Summary: This is the story of Jarrod and Heath's trip to New York City. It will take me a while to finish - it's turning out to be too much fun to write, as you can tell from the title.
1. Chapter 1

DO NOT TELL MOTHER

CHAPTER 1

Nick blew up. "What do you mean, you're going to New York City?!"

"Just that," Jarrod said. "Heath and I are going on a little vacation to New York City."

"How long are you gonna be gone?!"

Jarrod shrugged. "Couple weeks."

"A couple of WEEKS?!"

His reaction was so over the top that everyone except him was laughing.

"This is a working ranch!" Nick blasted out again. "How can you take Heath off across the whole darned country and – and – and – "

"And not take you?" Audra said with a smirk.

Nick fumbled for a way out of the hole he'd dug himself into. "And expect this ranch to function!" he finally came up with.

"Nick, you ran this ranch just fine for years before I came along," Heath reminded him.

Nick was backed into another corner. He looked at the floor for an answer, but it wasn't there. "Well, when are you gonna be leaving?"

"Next week," Jarrod said.

"NEXT WEEK?!"

"Nicholas," Victoria stepped in, "if you can't complain in a lower tone of voice, please stop complaining." Then she smirked. "Someday Pappy will take you on a little trip, too."

Nick grumbled, but everyone else laughed. Jarrod gave Nick a slap on the back. "I promise," he said.

XXXXXXXXX

So the adventure began. A long train ride left Heath amazed that the country he lived in was so large. It had never occurred to him that once you got over the Mississippi you still had nearly a thousand miles to go before you even saw New York City from a distance. It had never occurred to him that as they went further east everything would become a deeper and deeper shade of green and trees would become so thick you couldn't see a river only a hundred feet away.

It was all a completely new world to his younger brother, and Jarrod was enjoying watching him discover it. It reminded him of his first trip east, except, of course, there was a war waiting for him at the end of it, not an adventure like the one waiting for Heath. And it was going to be a great adventure. Jarrod was going to make sure of that.

After the long train trip, they came onto ferry boats on the western shore of the Hudson River. From the train to the boat, there was not a bit of daylight and no way to see the city Heath knew was not far away, but as the ferry took off from the shore of the Hudson River, Jarrod took him forward so he could get his first look at Manhattan.

 _It's just like San Francisco – only bigger,_ Heath had always been told, and boy howdy, it was.

He stood staring open-mouthed, like someone who had just been dropped in from another planet. Jarrod couldn't help smiling at him. It made him remember himself the first time he had come to New York, years ago when he was in law school. He himself could see some changes in the big city, even from this distance, event though he was approaching it from a different direction this time. The city was becoming more impressive all the time.

The ferry put them ashore before very long, and Heath whistled at the long line of hacks waiting there to take passengers wherever they wanted to go. It took a few minutes for them to get one, but soon a driver loaded their bags into the back of his cab. As they climbed in, Jarrod said, "Fifth Avenue Hotel, please," and soon they were off.

There was nothing like the expression on Heath's face as he looked up and down the streets and avenues and, as far as he could see, there were buildings, several stories high, some higher than any he'd ever seen. And people – people everywhere, on sidewalks, in the streets, some people even hanging out the windows of the buildings. There were horses and carriages and noise – so much noise! When the cab turned onto Fifth Avenue and they began to ride down the bottom of that artificial canyon, Heath began to smile.

He looked at his older brother. "You weren't just whistling Dixie."

Jarrod laughed. "I got us rooms at the best hotel in town, pretty new when I was here last but still the best place in town. Now, there's one thing I better warn you about. The ladies around here who – shall we say, ply their trade in the evening – can be pretty aggressive. They don't forage for customers in the Fifth Avenue Hotel, but the hotel does allow men to bring ladies in if they are escorted and once they're in, well - . The point is, be careful about a woman who might be paying a lot of attention to you, no matter where you find her."

"Oh, I know," Heath said. "I am just one country hick, prime for the pickin'."

Jarrod said, "There are a lot of diseases running around here, too."

Heath nodded, "I hear you, big brother. You gonna tell me what neighborhoods to stay out of, too?"

"I could stand to review that situation myself," Jarrod laughed. "It's been a long time. Things change. The concierges in town are usually pretty good at keeping up with things like that, and I still have a few other connections."

The cab pulled up to the hotel and Heath whistled again. It was six stories high and as big as a city block. It looked like it was made of pure marble. Hacks were lined up in front, letting passengers off and taking them on. Jarrod and Heath got out of their cab and Jarrod tipped the driver as young men in very fancy garb from the hotel took their bags from the hack. Jarrod spoke to them and tipped them as well. He gave Heath an easy slap on the arm to get his attention away from gawking, and they went inside.

The hotel lobby was bigger and more ornate than any Heath had ever seen. He looked all around while Jarrod checked them in. So many pillars and sofas in velvet and gilded carved woodwork everywhere. And there was a funny looking little room across the way that had a door like a cage and something solid in the middle of it. People were going in but different people came out.

Jarrod saw that Heath was fixated on that. "Come on," he said. "You're in for an interesting ride."

Jarrod took him over to that funny little room. A man inside, dressed similarly to the young men outside who had taken their bags, soon opened the door that looked like a cage. Jarrod ushered Heath inside, and he got a good look at that solid thing in the middle. It looked like a giant screw. The man closed the cage door, and suddenly that screw began to turn and the room began to move – up!

Heath looked at Jarrod as if he were being lifted to the moon. Jarrod laughed again. They hadn't been here an hour yet, and Jarrod had smiled and laughed more in that hour than he had in the entire year before. Fun, he thought to himself. This is going to be fun.

The young man with their bags met them when the cage door opened again. Jarrod ushered Heath out in front of him, and Heath looked astonished to see he was in a completely different place than when he went into the little room.

"Welcome to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, gentlemen," the young man with their bags said. Heath noted it was about the fifth time somebody had welcomed them to this place. "Come right this way," the young man said.

He led them down a long hallway to a room at the very end, where he unlocked the door and ushered them in. As he followed with the bags, Heath found himself gawking again. This hotel room was HUGE, with rich wood paneling and more velvet sofas and chairs, and a desk, and doors standing open that led to two bedrooms.

Another door was closed. Curious, Heath opened it. "Holy - !"

There was a sink, a bathtub, and a privy in there! The sink and the bathtub Heath could accept – they had that at the ranch – but a privy! And everything was sparkling white, even the walls and the floor.

Jarrod tipped the young man who brought the bags again and asked for a bottle of champagne on ice to be sent up. The young man nodded and left. Jarrod went to a window and said, "Heath, come on over here. Have a look."

Heath joined him there. They were clearly on one of the top floors, because he could see for miles and what he saw were miles of buildings. He couldn't see an end to all the buildings. Some were almost as high as the hotel. Heath shook his head.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" Jarrod asked.

"I've never felt more like a hick in my life," Heath said.

Jarrod laughed and slapped him on the back.

Half an hour later, they were sharing chilled champagne, their ties untied and their vests unbuttoned and their feet up on the coffee table in front of the sofa where they sat side by side.

"I've made reservations for us at Delmonico's tonight," Jarrod said. "We'll talk about what you want to do in the next couple days."

"Come down off my cloud," Heath said.

"Oh, you'll come down," Jarrod said. "I can't let you leave here thinking it's all sunshine and roses. You wanted to see New York – well, I'll show it to you, the good and the bad, at least as I've seen it."

"When did you come here before?" Heath asked.

"After the war, on a break from law school – a lotta years ago now."

"How'd you avoid getting into trouble?"

"I didn't. Don't ever tell Mother, but I spent one night of my little vacation in jail."

Heath began to laugh. "In jail?"

"I was a bad, bad boy."

Heath laughed so hard he nearly fell off the sofa. "What did you do?"

"Well, I was stupid and when some character tried to pick my pocket, I hauled off and slugged him. He pulled a knife on me, we got to fighting it out. Since he never actually picked my pocket, I had no way of proving he was in the wrong and I was in the right, so they arrested me for assault and battery."

"They didn't get him for pulling a knife?"

"Heath, my boy, in some neighborhoods around here, pulling a knife on someone is as common as shaking hands."

"How did you get out of that mess?"

"They took me to be arraigned the next morning. The man I slugged didn't show up. The judge knew him by name and reputation, and he dismissed the charge. That jail is where I met some of the more – shall we say colorful – characters I've ever met. But I mean it, DO NOT TELL MOTHER about any of this!"

Heath kept laughing, but said, "I won't. Can I count on you to bail me out if I slug somebody?"

"If I'm not in there with you."

They both roared with laughter. The champagne made the laughter roar louder and last longer. And this time, Heath actually did fall off the sofa.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Several hours later they were overfed and happy after steaks at Delmonico's. Jarrod knew of a Gentlemen's Club nearby where they could smoke cigars, drink brandy and talk over plans for the rest of their visit, so they wandered down the street with Heath trying not to gawk too much at the people – especially the ladies on the corners - and the buildings and the traffic in the streets. They wandered into the club, where the maître d' took one look at them and burst out, "My God, it's Jarrod Barkley!"

Jarrod remembered the man immediately. "Clive? Clive Ormand?! Is that you, you old reprobate?"

"It is!" the tall, thin man said as they warmly shook hands. "I thought you were staying back out west! What are you doing in town?"

"Showing my little brother around," Jarrod said. "Heath, this is Clive Ormand. If you need to know anything about this town, he's your man. Clive, my brother Heath, on his first trip to the big city."

Clive offered a hand to Heath, and he took it.

"Brandy and a cigar or two, right?" Clive said to Jarrod.

"Some things never change," Jarrod said.

Heath was a little baffled. "Clive, how can you remember my brother after all these years? I mean, he didn't spend a whole lot of time here, did he?"

Clive showed them to a pair of leather armchairs with a small table in between. "No, but a good maître d' remembers everything, and I've been blessed with the best memory this side of the Mississippi. If you ever come back here, even if it's after another twenty years, I'll know you right away."

Clive seated them and waved for someone to take care of them as Jarrod slipped him a hefty tip.

"I'll talk to you later, Jarrod – it's good to see you again," Clive said and left to go back to his station.

"All right, I know how Clive remembers you, now how come you remember him?" Heath asked.

Jarrod leaned his head back and looked back through the years. "When I said Clive knows everything about New York, I meant everything. I was – shall we say, interested in some female company but not with any potential diseases attached. He took care of getting me one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life, and I had one of the most memorable evenings of my life. DO NOT TELL THIS TO MOTHER."

Heath laughed.

Jarrod went on. "The other thing about Clive and his memory – he's established a network of people he can go to for any information he wants. He's even come to me a few times to check somebody out in San Francisco."

Heath whistled. "And I'm guessing he makes some pretty hefty tips on this sideline business he has going."

Jarrod nodded. "You bet he does. BUT – Clive is somebody you don't tell Mother about. This sideline business isn't exactly on the up and up, if you know what I mean. We don't need to clutter up Mother's opinion of my network of associates. She doesn't know everything about the types I deal with – though she probably has her suspicions. I don't want her know too much for sure. She'd only worry and – she'd probably take it out on my hide."

"How am I gonna remember all these things I'm not supposed to tell Mother?"

"Well, let's just assume you'll have some of your own by the time we leave here. You remember mine, and I'll remember yours."

A young man arrived with two snifters of brandy and asked what kind of cigars they wanted. Jarrod ordered two of the kind he saved for special occasions.

Heath caught something in the way the young man looked at him. "Uh, Jarrod – "

Jarrod caught it, too. "Yes, I saw. Just remember you're in the big city, boy. Be careful what signals you give out and to whom you give them."

"Hmm," Heath said.

"Now," Jarrod said. "You need to decide first if you want to do some cultural things in town, or if you're more like the sailor on shore leave."

"How about something in between – like some female company without worrying about diseases, and a little of that part of town that's not sunshine and roses, and maybe some theater thrown in for things we can tell Mother about."

Jarrod laughed. "Sounds like a plan. We'll have a chat with Clive before we leave."

Heath asked, "Jarrod, just how do we be sure – there are no diseases involved?"

Jarrod smiled. "These ladies are not – shall we say, plying the trade that you might see on the corner. Believe it or not, you can get anything in New York, and that includes beautiful women you just want to have on your arm for an evening, nothing more. And the kind of ladies Clive can get for us – you don't get them without references, both personal and bank references. Clive and his memory have connections all over this country. Since he's used me as a source, he's probably checked me out a few times over the years – he keeps up on people all the time. Believe me, by the day after tomorrow he'll know everything about us from our bank balances to how many times we saw the doctor this year and what for. These ladies and their employers are as wary about diseases as we are. You will not be enjoying anything but their company for a few hours. If you want something else, that's another marketplace, and – Clive can get us to that one, too."

"Well, let's leave that thought until later, but you still don't want Mother to know we're seeing these – ladies?"

Jarrod shook his head and accepted the cigar brought to them. "Only because if we told her what kind of ladies they were, she'd never believe us."

Heath laughed yet again.

Jarrod allowed his cigar to be lit and gave it a puff. He nodded to the man who brought it, and the man gave a cigar to Heath. Jarrod said, "Tomorrow we'll wander over to Union Square and check out the theater scene. A little Shakespeare might do you good."

"Uh – is there something in a language I can actually understand?"

"I'm sure there is, but don't give up on Shakespeare until you actually see it and hear it performed. It's a kind of language that only comes alive once it's off the written page. If the play is right, you might like it."

"Well, I'll leave that up to you, big brother. You always were the cultured one in the family."

They smoked and drank in silence for a while. At one point, Jarrod spotted Clive looking their way, and since he wasn't busy, Jarrod motioned him over. They spoke so quietly to each other that even Heath did not hear them, but Clive smiled, nodded, and accepted another hefty tip.

"Friday evening," Jarrod said, "we will enjoy an evening at the theatre with a couple lovely women, then a late dinner and then perhaps a carriage ride in the park uptown."

"What you got in mind for tomorrow?" Heath asked.

"Union Square, and maybe a visit to one or two of those parts of town that have no roses. I want you to understand as much as you can in a few days about what life in the big eastern city is like, for those of us with money and for those of us without."

Heath nodded. Then he looked around the room, and that well-dressed men drinking and smoking together, talking and laughing, being waited on hand and foot. Yes, he thought seeing some of the less well-heeled people in this town was a good idea. Somehow, he thought he might actually feel a little more at home with them.

He had no idea how different being poor in New York was than being poor in California. He would find out.

XXXXXX

They were tired from traveling, and eating, and drinking, by the time they got back to their rooms at about 11. The suite had a bedroom for each of them. Jarrod used the private facilities first and turned in, saying something like "This kind of evening was a lot easier when I was a younger man," before he disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door.

Heath laughed again, then cleaned himself up and got ready for bed. It took him a moment to figure out how to extinguish the gaslight in his room, but as soon as he did and turned to climb into bed, he noticed the nighttime view outside his room.

His was the room on the corner of the hotel. He could see in two directions, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Small lights everywhere, up and down the streets, from distant buildings and out on the streets themselves, as far as he could see. Some of them seemed to be twinkling, and he realized that was probably caused by tree branches moving in the breeze in front of them, but it was a magical effect. It was like the stars had come down to earth and settled in this place, down below him instead of up above him. This city had placed the stars at his feet.

He lay down in bed but did not go to sleep right away. Excitement, and the change in time that happened as they crossed the country, still had him somewhat awake.

He thought about the day he had shared this dream to come here with his brother. Such hard, hard times Jarrod had been going through for what seemed like forever. Heath had found him at his wife's grave and struggled for a moment with what to say to him about it as they rode away, and that was when he decided to share this dream of coming to New York.

He thanked whatever angel whispered in his ear that day. He knew he was never going to forget this time here in this city with his oldest brother. They seldom had time one on one, together as brothers, when there was not some trouble brewing. They could hardly ever just enjoy each other's company. He knew he was never going to forget how the smile would not leave Jarrod's face all day. And how it would not leave his own. He was still smiling when he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They slept late. Jarrod rolled out of bed before Heath did and had taken care of his ablutions and gotten dressed before Heath emerged from his room, looking like a man who had forgotten where he put his brain when he went to bed the night before.

"Morning," Jarrod said. He was sitting on the sofa and reading the morning paper, which the hotel delivered to each door during the night.

Heath managed to open one eye fully and saw that Jarrod was dressed in casual clothes – just pants and a long-sleeved shirt, no tie. His brown jacket was draped across the back of the sofa. "No suit this morning?" Heath asked.

"Not where we're going," Jarrod said. "We might get a bit roughed up. Don't want to wreck the good clothes."

"You're expecting a fight?"

"Not necessarily, but could be. Could be just some shoving. Could be nothing. We'll see."

Heath yawned and went about his own morning clean-up routine. He cut himself shaving more than he usually did but he chalked that up to trying to shave with his eyes closed. "I need some coffee," he said before he even tried to get from his nightshirt to his clothes.

Jarrod pointed to the coffee pot and cups on the small table near the window. "It won't be steaming hot, but it ought to be drinkable."

Heath went to it, poured himself a cup and wolfed it down. It was just a bit hotter than lukewarm, but that was good enough. Jarrod continued to read the paper while Heath dressed.

Heath was a bit more awake when he came out in his clothes. "I got my pocket knife," he said.

"Good," Jarrod said, folding the paper and placing it on the sofa as he got up. "I've got mine too, but we probably won't need them. They're not that helpful in a knife fight anyway."

"I can't remember when I was in a knife fight last," Heath said. "I did manage to get mine out and did all right with it."

"Good," Jarrod said. "I'm not a knife fighter."

"Can we go get something to eat?"

"Sure, but we'll need to put most of our money in the hotel safe before we leave here," Jarrod said. "We don't want to carry a lot with us this morning."

"Where we going?"

Jarrod headed for the door. "Breakfast – lower east side – Bowery – "

Heath had heard about the Bowery. Tough, tough gang activity there. And the lower east side was full of poor people from places in Europe like Germany, Italy, even Greece. As Jarrod headed out the door, Heath followed, asking, "What all do you expect we'll run into?"

"How the other half live," Jarrod said. "How people scrape to get by, and they do get by. It might be a lot different than you've seen before."

Heath nodded, saying, "Why are we going in the morning? Why not later?"

They walked across the hall and took the stairs down. "The later in the day, the less you'll see of actual people. The gangs come out and the regular people go in. I want you to see the regular people – and I want to minimize the chance that we'll get into trouble we can't get out of."

"I assume this is something else we don't tell Mother about."

"Good assumption."

They didn't even eat until they had walked several blocks and the view began to change. The buildings began to be less ornate, more tightly pushed together, and less well maintained. Kids started to appear in the streets, dirty and unsupervised, even little kids barely on their feet and not out of diapers. The older kids started pulling at Heath and Jarrod, begging for money.

"Come on, Mister, you can afford it!"

"Got a nickel? Just a nickel, come on!"

Jarrod ignored them, so Heath did too, although he felt a bit guilty about it. Then little hands started digging into his pockets. "Hey!" he said and swatted them away, like flies.

Like flies, he thought. I'm treating children like flies.

One tiny kid got into Jarrod's pocket almost up to his elbow. Jarrod grabbed him under the arm and lifted him off the ground. "Hit the road, pal!" he said and plopped him down again.

The kids went off laughing without taking any money and continued playing happily, mostly a stick and ball game. As they walked further toward the river Heath could see in the distance, the number of people on the street increased, and so did the number of people hanging out the windows of the buildings. Laundry lines with wet clothes began to stretch from one place to another. Languages other than English began to mingle together in a symphony of sound. Heath started shaking his head.

Jarrod smiled a little. He nodded toward a woman sitting partly in and partly out of a window three stories up in a narrow building seemingly squashed between two others. "They hang out of the windows because they literally can't get air into their homes. The alleys are foul and foul-smelling, and opening windows in the backs of these houses can make people sick, so they don't do it until they have to. The kids are out on the street because that's where the air is, and the parents don't want them underfoot, and because that's just what kids do here. As soon as they're weaned, they're out the door as much as possible."

It was not the heat of summer, but Heath immediately started to think about that. "What do they do when the weather really gets hot?"

"Then everybody's out here, if they can move, of course. The elderly and the sick are stuck inside, where they often just die from the heat. When it gets cold, it's pretty much a disaster for the elderly and the sick. Staying indoors, they just get sicker, and the kids get sick, and even the adults."

Jarrod's voice trailed off. Heath could tell he didn't like thinking about such things, much less talking about them. Injustice was at the bottom of all that suffering, and Jarrod could not stomach injustice.

Jarrod pointed ahead, where the river loomed only a couple blocks away. "There are open air markets down by the river, where the boats come in. At least these people can get some pretty decent food, assuming they can afford it. You can't afford all you need when you have ten kids and the father's out of work."

It wasn't very long when Heath began to see the markets Jarrod mentioned. Some places were cooking food that smelled exotic to Heath. Oh, he'd seen some places like this in San Francisco, but never so many, and never with the scents he was experiencing here.

Jarrod stopped at a place that was selling some kind of sandwich and bought two of them. He paid for them and gave one to Heath, then started to eat.

"What is this?" Heath asked.

"I honestly don't remember what they call it, but it's lamb on a flat kind of bread, from Eastern Europe. Take a bite, it's good."

Heath did take a bite. It was good.

They strolled a bit and tried to ignore the vendors who practically thrust food into their faces, begging for sales. Jarrod did stop and accept a couple pieces of a drippy meat from a man who wore a tight cap on the top of his head.

"God bless you," the man said. "But you I have not seen before."

"Haven't been down here lately," Jarrod said. "Has business been good?"

The man shrugged. "Today not so good. Yesterday not so bad."

"Any good fruit come in fresh this morning?"

"A block down, maybe," the man said. He saw Heath struggling with the drippy meat. "A first for you, eh, young man?"

Heath was trying to eat without getting food on his shirt, so he only smiled and shrugged.

"You come back in a few days," the man said. "You come back."

Jarrod paid him and said a few words to him in a language Heath didn't remotely understand, and they kept walking and eating.

"What did you say to him?" Heath asked.

"Just thanked him. He's a Jew," Jarrod said. "I picked up a little Yiddish when I was here last. It kind of sticks with you."

When they finished the meat, Jarrod found a place that offered fresh fruit. Jarrod bought a couple things that looked like apples – but weren't apples. Softer, sweeter, drippier. Juice ran down the front of Heath's shirt.

"Another reason not to wear a suit," Jarrod said.

Heath stopped to clean himself off a bit, and he looked around. All the dirty children playing in the street, all the steam rising from the stalls where food was sold, all the women haggling over fruit and vegetables with the vendors who sold them, all the ships in the river. All the noise! Jarrod noticed him taking it in.

"Come on," Jarrod said, leaning toward Heath so he could hear better. "There's something I want to see myself, down in the river."

Heath followed along. When they got to the river, they began walking toward some strange unfinished structures that were poking out of the river, between this island of Manhattan and some land further to the east. Heath had no idea what they were looking at. Jarrod stopped and pointed.

"When it's done, it's going to be the longest suspension bridge in the world," Jarrod said.

"Suspension bridge?" He remembered the day he first met a Barkley, meeting Nick on that rickety suspension bridge over the river that collapsed under the weight of the two of them and their horses. But this – "How can anybody build a suspension bridge that long?"

"It'll be high and wide, too. I don't really understand all the engineering involved, but somehow there will be metal cables that will run from tower to tower – that's what we're looking at mainly, the towers that are going to rise up hundreds of feet in the air. These cables will have the bridge suspended from them, like a regular suspension bridge. They've got a long way to go to finish it, and they've been working on it a long time. A lot of men have died already – the towers have to have foundations deep, deep under the river and getting the foundations built has been daunting and dangerous. Bad air and something about being that deep in water is bad for a man, but you could see, the men around here can be desperate for work. And of course, this type of thing costs so many fortunes it's unbelievable. I hear they've actually rented out space deep in the vaults in some of the foundations so the wealthy can store their wine. Lots of interesting ways to raise money for a project like this."

"Where's it going to over the other side of the river there?"

"Brooklyn. Lovely area, so I've heard. Never been there myself. This bridge is going to be something when it's done. I suspect San Francisco will have bridges like it someday, running from the peninsula to the mainland. Not sure either of us will live to see them, though."

Jarrod turned and they began to walk back into the city. Lots of kids and lots of noise everywhere again, so much that Heath was beginning to NOT hear it. His mind was blocking it out. Before long Jarrod leaned toward him and said, "This is the Bowery. If we run into trouble, it'll be here, so keep your eyes open."

Heath did. He saw more adults on the street now, men in suits and bowler hats, going into places of business and coming out, talking to one another on the street corners. The traffic continued up and down the streets, but the number of children was rapidly declining, and so was the sound of their happy voices.

Heath noticed that Jarrod was carefully scanning the streets and the people around them. Well, that figured, Heath thought. Jarrod spends a lot of time in San Francisco. He's more used to knowing what to look for in places like this and how to look for it.

Suddenly, they both noticed a group of four men approaching them head on, staring straight at them.

Jarrod said, "I think we have a problem here."

"How do we handle it?"

"Don't go for that pocket knife. It won't help. Just keep your eyes on these guys and let's see how it plays out."

"And don't tell Mother about it?"

"Absolutely don't tell Mother about it. If she finds out I took you into a place like this just so you could see if we could avoid getting killed, she'll murder me herself."

They kept walking as they had been, moving toward the men who were moving toward them.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Heath kept his eyes on the men approaching them and tried hard not to slow down, because Jarrod didn't.

"Are these guys likely to have guns?" Heath asked.

"Not likely, but it's possible."

"What's the plan?"

"Keep on walking. If they stop us, we fight if we have to, but only enough to get time to run."

Heath worried. He was younger and faster than Jarrod. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Good. I'm not planning on leaving you either. Here we go."

The men stopped in front of them. Jarrod nodded politely while he and Heath tried to move past them. They kept blocking the way.

"Something you want from us?" Jarrod asked.

"Haven't seen you around here," one of the men said.

"Don't live here," Jarrod said. "Just passing through."

Jarrod tried to move forward, but they blocked the way again. He and Heath moved back a step.

"What's your business here?" the man asked.

"No business," Jarrod said. "Like I said, just passing through."

"People don't just pass through here, pal," the man said.

Suddenly, Jarrod grabbed the man and threw him sideways into the man standing next to him. Heath tried the same with the other two men, succeeding in getting them off their feet, but by then the man who did the talking was already scrambling back up. Jarrod gave him a kick to the face and took off running. It took Heath a moment to deck one of the other men before he took off after Jarrod.

Heath was surprised Jarrod had that much speed in him. He not only got off fast - he was able to dash across the street, dodge several vehicles – and ladies hawking their trade – and not crash into innocent people on the way. Heath did likewise, following where Jarrod led. Then Jarrod was ducking into a street that intersected the one they were on, then dodging traffic to cross it, then he was off onto another intersecting street before he finally stopped to catch his breath and to see if Heath was still with him.

Heath was only steps behind him, but not as out of breath. They both looked behind them. The men had not come after them, or if they had, the dodging among the traffic had thrown them off.

"You all right?" Heath asked.

"Just feeling old," Jarrod said, smiling but still trying to catch his breath. "Come on, let's keep going."

They kept moving further into the island, uphill, but now at a walking pace. Now and then they each looked over their shoulders to see if anyone was following them, but after a while it was clear that they hadn't been that important to the men who accosted them in the first place. Eventually they were crossing the street to their hotel, when they finally stopped, took one last look, and laughed.

"We got lucky," Jarrod said.

"I didn't know you still had those kinds of moves in you, big brother," Heath said.

"Well," Jarrod said. He kept his smile and said, "Just don't -"

"Tell Mother, I know, I know," Heath said.

"Actually, I was going to say don't tell anybody," Jarrod said, still a bit out of breath. "If the family finds out I took you to the Bowery to see if we could get rolled and get out of it, my reputation as a thug is never going to die out. Let's get cleaned up and get a good solid lunch."

"I'm for that."

XXXXXXX

They changed back into suits and left the hotel after fetching some of their money out of the hotel safe. Jarrod had a message waiting for him at the desk. He unfolded it and took a look.

"Not from home, is it?" Heath asked.

Jarrod shook his head, smiling. "From Clive. He has everything set for us for tomorrow night, except the theatre tickets. Those are up to us." Then he showed the note to Heath. It looked somewhat like a bill, but it was marked "Gratis." Clive wasn't charging them for his, or the ladies', services.

"I guess Clive likes you," Heath said.

"More like a quid pro quo for the services I've provided him, and an investment in our continuing business relationship. We'd better pick a very good play for the ladies."

"You still got your heart set on Shakespeare?"

"Depends," Jarrod said. "On what's available, not on the ladies. Clive got me together with the same woman I was with years ago. She had an eclectic taste in theatre."

His smile grew happier, warmer with the memory. Heath liked it.

They had lunch at a local café. It was a far more relaxing time, but Heath could not get the things he'd seen in the morning out of his mind. He gave the men who accosted them a passing thought, but mainly he thought about the children – the children he had swatted like flies.

Sure, he grew up poor himself and had it rough, but nothing like these little ones had it – shoved out of the house before they were out of diapers, begging and robbing in the streets, dodging hundreds of vehicles in a day and hiding from thugs as soon as the afternoon came on. And probably growing up to be thugs themselves. That was not the life Heath had as a child. He was loved and cared for. He was never just another kid to be heaved out on his own as soon as he could walk.

"Jarrod," he said as he picked slowly at the last of his food, "what happens to those kids we saw this morning?"

"What do you mean?" Jarrod asked.

"Do they have any chance at all at a decent life, or is it just a life of becoming the biggest thug you can be?"

Jarrod's eyes grew dark. "I'm afraid it's more than the latter than the former. This is a place like many other places in this country. Who your parents are dictates who you become. But some of those kids will grow up to get out of those neighborhoods, make good lives. Some of them even get rich themselves."

"How?"

"They meet the right people, get the right careers going. You remember Julia Saxon?"

Heath was sorry to hear that name. A women Jarrod once loved who turned out to be a Confederate spy, a singer who came to Stockton after the war. He didn't know everything that happened between her and Jarrod, but he did know it had gotten his brother badly beaten up, outside and inside. It was another piece of life that had hurt his brother lately. "I remember her," was all Heath said.

"She came from a place like that," Jarrod said. That was all he said.

Sure, she had fought her way out of poverty, but Heath was not sure the life she built was all that much better. He knew Jarrod felt that way, too.

Jarrod finished up his meal and changed the subject. "We're going to head up to Union Square and find the play we want to see tomorrow night. Maybe catch a different kind of show this afternoon."

"They got theatre in the afternoon here?"

Jarrod grinned again. "In some parts of town, all day and all night long. A lot of them are fronts for the trade you see more of on the corner, but so are most of the saloons back home. They just dress things up a bit more around here, put a few fancier twists on things."

Heath wondered what that meant, especially when Jarrod got that twinkle in his eye.

After lunch, the two of them began a leisurely walk toward Union Square. As they grew closer to the square, the number of theatres began to increase. Dance halls and gaieties were the first types they came upon. The ones "you don't tell Mother about" were already up and running. Pictures of girls in very short dresses and barkers calling out the trade decked the fronts of the places. Women on some of the corners were giving them the come-on – Heath gave them only a smile.

Heath stopped for a moment at one place, to admire the pictures.

Jarrod grinned. "Want to go in? We'll put it on your 'don't tell Mother' list."

Heath gave a grin of his own. They went in.

The room had a stage and was full of tables and raucous men, drinking and yelling. A row of girls were dancing on the stage.

Oh, my goodness, Heath thought when he saw the dancers. The girls kicked high and raised those short skirts even higher and – they had almost nothing on underneath. Not much was left to the imagination, especially when they turned around, lifted the back of their skirts, and everybody in the place cheered.

If there were places like this in San Francisco, Heath hadn't found them yet – not that he was really looking. This experience was definitely – different.

Jarrod laughed as they tried to find a place to sit down and Heath tripped on a chair because he was not watching where he was going. Jarrod took his arm and sat him down, then sat down beside him and ordered a couple beers.

One of the girls caught Heath's eye and winked at him. He thought he might actually blush. The place was full of music and noise, so much so that Heath and Jarrod could not talk to one another. When the girls on the stage came down and began dancing among the patrons, Jarrod tucked some money into the top of the skirt of the girl who had winked at Heath. She gave him a quick wink, then lifted her skirt for Heath and danced on.

Oh, my goodness, Heath thought again. This is DEFINITELY a place I won't tell Mother about. And he wondered what his own birth mother would have thought of him being in a place like this.

They spent a long time nursing their beer before they left, declining an invitation from one of the barkers at the door.

Heath stopped for a moment, looking around. Then he looked at Jarrod. "How can these kind of places be legal?"

"Well, the dance hall is legal," Jarrod said. "The extra trade we just saw at the door – and the kind we've been seeing on the street – aren't. The police do what they can, but in a city where violent crime isn't unusual, and where the police force is outnumbered by the criminals – you put your resources where they'll do the most good. I told you before we came – cram so many people onto one island, and you get problems. I want you to see it all."

Heath raised his eyebrows. "That I am."

They walked further toward Union Square, and the atmosphere around them began to change.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As they got closer to Union Square, the legitimate theatres became more numerous, and the people in the street became more well dressed and upper crust. The name of the play each theatre was carrying was displayed in front of it, and a box office sold tickets. Some places already had lines of people waiting.

Jarrod scanned the names of the plays as they walked along. He recognized some of the titles, but one or two were new to him. There was a recent but well-known play, and one from ancient Greece. There were also one or two Shakespearean plays being shown.

"Well, what do you think?" Jarrod asked. "Do you recognize any of these?"

"One or two," Heath said. "But I don't know anything about them."

"Well, if you're up to some Shakespeare, I'd really recommend 'The Tempest,' down there," Jarrod said, pointing ahead. "Kind of Shakespeare's idea of what might be found in the New World. Very fantastical. I think you'll like it."

"You've seen it before?"

"Long time ago, in Boston. Come on. You'll like it and so will the ladies – very romantic."

Jarrod gave his brother a wink, and they went to the box office of the theatre showing the play. A few minutes later, they had four tickets for the Friday night showing. Jarrod tucked them into the inside pocket of his coat.

"Now," he said, checking his watch. "Wow, it's later than I thought it was. We should get back, get ready for drinks and dinner. I thought you might like a little time in a pub tonight."

"A pub?"

"Short for 'public house.' British version of a bar. The Brits drink their beer warm, and a lot of it. It's a place they give up some of that stiff upper lip stuff and cut loose."

"An Englishman cutting loose. I would like to see that."

XXXXXXXXX

It was only an hour or so later they were through their first beer and halfway through the second, taking on all comers at a game of darts and winning enough to pay for the beer. Heath especially was loosening up as he pitched darts at the dartboard. He was good at it, and he liked winning nearly every bet he made.

Jarrod stood back and watched his younger brother carry on after a while. It reminded him of Heath's dream of owning race horses and winning big betting on them. Maybe Jarrod could never do anything about the racehorse dream, but being able to make Heath's New York dream come true made Jarrod feel better than he'd felt in a long, long time. Watching Heath take everything made him feel younger again – a time before life kicked him so hard in the teeth, a time when the present was fun and the future didn't matter.

An older Englishman said, "Your brother there is bloody good at the darts."

"Yes, Heath usually hits what he aims at," Jarrod said.

"But he's met his match in Tom Brooks there."

Jarrod watched the man who was stepping up to take his first throws. "Twenty dollars says Heath can take him."

"You're on, friend," the Englishman said and extended his hand.

Jarrod shook it and offered the man a cigar. Together they smoked and drank and watched Heath barely get the win over Tom Brooks. The two of them shook hands amiably, Jarrod collected his winnings, and Heath came over to join him and the Englishman at the bar.

Jarrod shook his brother's hand. "Heath, my good man, do you remember the day we met?"

"I sure do," Heath said. "I won you some money when I beat that railroad."

"You just won me some money again," Jarrod said.

"You beat a railroad?" the Englishman said. "At what? A footrace?"

Heath and Jarrod both laughed out loud. "On horseback," Heath said. "I didn't feel like waiting at a road crossing, so I just kicked my horse good and cut in front of it."

"Good God, man, you could have been killed!" the Englishman said.

"Coulda been," Heath said and took a swig of beer. "Wasn't."

"And I thought you said the two of you were brothers," the Englishman said.

"Technically, half-brothers," Jarrod said. "First met about five years ago. It was a very good day."

The warmth in his eyes made Heath feel good all over, and with all the extra beer inside, it made him a little misty, too. He didn't know what to say, but he had to say something just to get the energy out of him that wanted to bust out. He ended up saying, "Here's to the Queen!" and raising his glass of beer.

"To the Queen!" everyone around him who had heard him said. The toast spread to the entire room and all the glasses were lifted, then crashed down onto the bar or a table or anything else nearby that was hard. Beer spilled like crazy, and everyone cheered. Heath wiped his mouth, grinning ear to ear.

XXXXX

Even though Jarrod had made reservations at a restaurant for dinner, they ended up spending all evening at the pub, drinking, talking, eating, playing darts and playing cards, and they were thoroughly drunk by the time they left. Jarrod was not entirely sure what time it was, because he could not see his watch, but he remembered that he had never had the crystal replaced – Nick had removed it when an explosion took Jarrod's eyesight about two years earlier, and Jarrod hadn't replaced it intentionally, as a reminder. So now that his vision was bleary from beer, he felt the hands to check the time, and it was well past ten. He was happy he hadn't replaced the crystal and resolved again that he never would.

Arms around each other, Jarrod and Heath wandered toward their hotel, getting turned around only once. Oddly enough, it was Heath who got them set right again.

"I'm not sure," Heath said, the words coming out very slowly, "how many more nights like this I can handle."

Jarrod laughed, a little less drunk than Heath was. "Relax. Tomorrow evening we'll spend with the ladies and be on better behavior, and Saturday afternoon we head home."

"You know something, big brother?" Heath said. "If you had told me the day I met you that you'd be getting me drunk in New York City five years later, I'd have said you were crazy."

Jarrod laughed again. "I'd have said the same thing. But I'll tell you what, Heath. The day you came to us was one of the best days the Barkleys every knew."

"I love you, big brother."

Jarrod gave Heath's shoulder a slap. "I love you, too, little brother."

They didn't realize until it was too late that someone was stepping up behind them. The intruder grabbed Heath by the arm and put a knife to his back, hard enough for Heath to feel it but not hard enough to do damage. He and Jarrod stopped and became very sober.

They were at the edge of the light from a streetlamp. Jarrod could look back behind Heath and see the man, small and wiry, and the knife. The man said, "I'll take what money you got left, gentlemen."

So fast Heath hardly knew it, Jarrod slapped the knife away, turned and grabbed the little man by the front of his coat. Heath stumbled but did not fall. He regained his footing in time to see Jarrod smash the little man up against the wall of a nearby building. The little man's head hit the wall and bounced off like a rubber ball.

Jarrod didn't say a word, but he was seething, that black anger overcoming him so fast that Heath couldn't believe it. Jarrod smashed the little man's head against the wall again.

Heath grabbed Jarrod's hands. "Jarrod, let him go!" he said firmly.

Jarrod did not let him go.

"Jarrod, come on!" Heath said.

Jarrod threw the little man aside like he was a rag doll. The man was stunned but conscious, and he quickly ran away, stumbling out into the darkness of a nearby alley. Still breathing hard, still wearing that black anger, Jarrod saw the knife lying on the sidewalk. He kicked it into a nearby storm drain.

Heath let go of his brother finally, completely out of breath even though he hadn't done anything. "You all right?" he asked.

Jarrod had gained his breath back. Slowly, the darkness left his eyes, and he seemed to come back to himself. "I'm fine," he said. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no," Heath said. "Come on. Let's get going."

They walked to their hotel more quickly, in silence, and once in their room, Jarrod fell down on the sofa, his arm over his forehead. "I'm sorry, Heath. I lost my temper back there."

"You put Nick to shame," Heath said, taking off his coat and tie. "I guess maybe that temper of yours is gonna stay on the raw side for a while, but this time I was pretty happy to have it."

Jarrod grunted and sat up. He heaved a sigh. "I've still got a way to go to get that – anger - in me under better control."

"Yeah."

"Heath, don't – " He stopped.

"Tell Mother?"

"I wasn't gonna say that, but while we're at it, yeah, don't tell Mother."

"What were you gonna say?"

Jarrod looked at him. "Don't think I'm a madman because I lose my temper too easily these days."

"Do YOU think you're a madman?"

"No. Just – got a bit of a hair trigger anymore."

Heath gave him a soft slap on the back. "I think it's a hair trigger town, Jarrod. If you hadn't grabbed that little runt, I was about to. Seems to me, you gotta be awfully tough in this city. Even those little kids this morning – I can picture one or two of them tossing the other ones around."

"Those kids really got to you, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did. No child still in diapers should have to be out in those streets."

"No, but that's the way it is here. Can't say I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, you warned me. But I'm grateful you brought me here. Even having that pig sticker in my back tonight taught me something I wanted to learn. Seeing those kids – realizing I was swatting them like flies – these are things I wanted to know. I needed to know. They'll stay with me – " Heath suddenly smiled. "Maybe even as much as those dancing ladies with next to nothing on underneath their dresses."

Jarrod smiled. "That 'don't tell Mother' list is getting pretty long. Probably a good thing we're leaving the day after tomorrow."

"I'm kinda glad you'll be spending our last evening here with that lady you met all those years ago."

Jarrod looked back into his memory. "I am looking forward to seeing her again."

"I hope I get a memory like that to keep."

"You will," Jarrod said. "Trust Clive. He doesn't disappoint."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Morning came far too early, even if it was after ten o'clock before Heath began to stir. Once again, Jarrod was awake, cleaned up, shaved, dressed and reading the morning paper before Heath even began to move. Once again, Heath could not remember where he left his brain the night before and tried to shave with his eyes closed. The only things really different this morning were that Jarrod was wearing a suit, and the coffee was cold.

"We've forgotten something important we need to take care of today," Jarrod said when Heath was finally dressed and fully awake.

"What's that?" Heath asked and drank a second cup of cold coffee.

"To buy a gift for Mother," Jarrod said. "And for Audra. And we'd better have something for Nick, too, or he'll get jealous again."

"Got any ideas?"

Jarrod folded the morning paper. "Audra would prefer jewelry. Mother a piece of art, a statuette perhaps. Now, Nick – "

"There's a toughie," Heath said, thinking.

"We need to get Eastern style neckties for ourselves, for tonight," Jarrod said. "These western string ties just won't go over like they would in San Francisco. You think Nick – no, not Nick. He wouldn't go for one of these Eastern ties."

"We probably ought to just look around. Maybe something will come to us. So, breakfast time?"

Jarrod laughed. "Heath, my boy, we slept through breakfast. It's an early lunch for us today."

The early lunch still had plenty of coffee. Jarrod wasn't sure that shopping in jewelry stores and art galleries was what Heath wanted for his New York dream, but Heath actually began to enjoy it – and the people watching. The clientele of such places was completely different from the kids on the street and the Bowery roughnecks he'd seen the day before. Heath couldn't really say which he was more comfortable with anymore. Once he'd have said he really felt more at home with the poor, but now, after all these years being a Barkley, he felt at home with the people who had money, too. And the people he saw today had money.

"I feel like one of the poor relations among these people," he murmured to Jarrod as they searched for a pendant for Audra in an upscale jewelry store.

"We probably are," Jarrod said. "These people aren't just rich – they're loaded."

"You sure we're shopping in the right store?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. A small locket for Audra won't break the bank, and she'll enjoy seeing the name on the box. What do you think of this one?" Jarrod pointed to a gold locket with beautiful engraved scrollwork.

"Pretty. What's the price?"

"Let's find out."

Jarrod motioned to a shop girl who came to assist them, and the price was all right, so they bought it for Audra and made sure the box was first class, a box that folded open, velvet on the outside with the shop name on satin on the inside. Jarrod slid it into his pocket.

From there they began to visit the art galleries, and again, Heath found himself more interested than he thought he'd be. They found several possible statuettes at different places, then stopped for a cup of coffee to make a final decision.

"Anything but Western art," Jarrod said.

"I don't know," Heath said. "That one of the cowboy breaking a horse – I kinda thought Nick might like that one."

"That is a thought, I forgot about him," Jarrod said. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "Hmm, we're going to have to decide. We're supposed to call for our ladies at five for drinks. The play is at seven, then dinner at ten."

"What time is it now?"

Jarrod put his watch away. "Going on three, and we have yet to see a haberdasher for those neckties."

"All right, then. At the place where the cowboy was, we saw that statue of the lady with the long hair and the long dress – it was marble, I think."

Jarrod nodded. "Yes, Mother would like that. All right. We have a plan."

"I can never remember how to tie one of those Eastern neckties. They're just not that easy to me."

"Don't worry. You'll get it. And just be glad we haven't had time to get formal wear. Your neck would itch for a week."

Heath remembered being in formal attire once or twice. His neck actually itched at the memory.

XXXXXXXX

Heath had plenty of trouble tying his tie, so much so that he gave up and had Jarrod tie it for him. It felt tight around his neck, but he had to admit – it looked pretty good on him.

"So, if we're not in formal wear, are we gonna look like hicks?" Heath asked.

"A bit, I suppose," Jarrod said, "but it takes too long to get formal wear made. You don't just go into a shop and buy it. You call in the tailor for that, and a two-day turn around is a bit too much to ask even in this city. Too much demand."

"Just as well. I never liked being in one of those starched collars and white vests and bow tie things."

"If we were going to the opera, I'd feel really out of place dressed as we are, but we'll be all right. Come on, now, we're gonna be late."

They hurried down to the front of the hotel and caught a hack to take them to the place they were to meet the ladies. You never met them at their homes but at a special residence Clive maintained just as a meeting place. Jarrod remembered it immediately, a townhouse at the edge of the large new park further north in town. The park was somewhat of a surprise to him. It was not finished when he was here on his vacation from school a decade earlier. Now, construction seemed to be over, and it looked like a park. A park so big it rivaled some of the ranches back home.

Clive had ordered a carriage and it was already waiting for them as they walked up the steps and rang the bell of the townhouse. A black man in very formal dress greeted them and led them into a parlor area. In only a few moments, the ladies who would accompany them for the evening appeared.

Jarrod remembered her immediately, her soft brown hair and bright brown eyes. She wore a beautiful green satin gown, and a lovely, warm smile. From that smile, Jarrod could tell that she remembered him, too. She extended her gloved hand, and Jarrod took it softly and kissed it. "Amanda, you're even more beautiful than I remember."

"And you're even more handsome," Amanda said. "It's wonderful to see you again, Jarrod." Then she extended her hand to Heath. "And you must be Jarrod's brother."

Heath took her hand and kissed it. "Heath Barkley, ma'am," he said.

"Heath, this is Gail," Amanda said then, and presented the petite, gorgeous young woman beside her.

Gail had blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore a lavender blue gown and had a smile that Heath had trouble taking his eyes off of. Clearly Heath's age, and probably younger, she did not lack for confidence. She extended her hand to him, and he took it and kissed it. "My pleasure, ma'am."

"Just Gail," she said in a voice that sounded like a song. "And may I call you Heath?"

Heath was almost dumbstruck. Never had he even seen a woman so lovely or so poised, much less spent an evening with one. "Please," he managed to say.

Gail offered her hand to Jarrod, and he kissed it, smiling. Seeing her with Heath reminded him of himself and Amanda, when they first met at this house. "May I call you Gail?"

"Of course," she said, "and may I call you Jarrod?"

"By all means," he said, and then he said, "Well, ladies, our carriage awaits."

They went outside and down the steps to the carriage waiting there. Jarrod and Amanda took one seat, Heath and Gail the one facing it, and they were off to the theatre district.

"I hope you like Shakespeare," Gail said to Heath.

"Honestly, I've never seen a Shakespeare play," Heath admitted. "I'm a bit of a country boy."

"So I hear," Gail said. "But relax. It's easy to follow when you see it performed."

"That's what Jarrod tells me," Heath said. "Have you seen it before?"

"No, not 'The Tempest,' but I've seen other plays. I'm really looking forward to this one. Everyone tells me it's marvelous and makes for a wonderful evening. I hope you like it."

"I'm already enjoying it – the evening, I mean."

Heath never felt so fumble-tongued in his life, but Gail smiled. That smile could put any man at ease.

Heath reached for her hand nervously. She let him take it, and she squeezed his just a little.

Jarrod took Amanda's hand and said quietly, "Gail is a lovely girl."

"Yes, she is," Amanda said, just as quietly. "I've known her for three years now. She's sweet and as elegant as I've seen a girl her age."

"I think elegance gets better with age," Jarrod said. "You are even more beautiful than I remember."

"You already said that, Jarrod."

"So I did. Now, I can understand why I'd remember you so well, but how is it you remember this gangly kid on vacation from school?"

Amanda laughed. "You were handsome and so very sophisticated for a Boston student fresh from the army. And you made me very happy that evening. And yes, a few extra pounds look good on you."

"Oh, well," Jarrod said. "Something about passing thirty-five does that to a man. It's so wonderful to see you again, Amanda."

"It's wonderful to see you again, too, Jarrod," Amanda said.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The carriage took them to the theatre district at Union Square, where they went for drinks at one of the hotels in the area. Heath thought "Wow!" but knew he'd sound too much like a hick to say it out loud. The small hotel bar was full of people in a variety of dress, all of it expensive. The women were in colors of all sorts, the men mostly in black evening wear but many in more business-like suits, like he and Jarrod wore. Everyone was talking and laughing and Heath thought this place was as far from the sights and sounds he'd seen on the lower east side and the Bowery – and even from the British pub - than from here to Stockton.

Jarrod found a table, and he and Heath seated the ladies there. Jarrod waved to a waiter before he sat down, and soon they were having a light sherry and some fruit and cheese. Heath felt a lot like a fish out of water. Jarrod was used to this kind of company, but it was nothing he'd ever really seen before. He just watched what his brother did and followed his lead on conversation, until Gail spoke up.

"I want to hear about living on a ranch in the wild west," she said, directing the question to both Jarrod and Heath.

Jarrod bailed on it. "Well, I'd better let Heath answer that one. I'm not home for long stretches at a time. Heath is the one who herds the cattle and horses and runs the ranch business with our brother Nick."

"What is it like to ride a horse all day?" Gail asked, looking at Heath.

"Uh, well," he said, "actually – " He didn't know what to say. How do you tell a sophisticated New York lady that being on a horse all day hurts your rear end and makes you smell bad?

Jarrod saved him. "I think Heath is trying to find a delicate way of describing life among the cattle and the horses and how it can be a bit – fragrant?"

Gail laughed. "Not in a good way, I take it."

"No, not in a good way," Heath said. "But you get pretty used to it."

"So, would you say the wild west is as romantic as they say it is?"

"No," Heath said quickly. "It's a lot of work, but it's good work. You're tired at the end of the day, but you feel good about it. But romantic? I'll go for months without seeing a pretty woman – and none of the ladies that come near a ranch can come close to you two ladies in the pretty department."

"Well, Gail, you and I may have to pay a visit to this Stockton place and show the ladies there how to pretty up," Amanda said.

"How do you like New York?" Gail asked Heath.

"Oh, I like it fine," Heath said. "You have quite a variety of people here, very – interesting people." He knew he didn't want to talk about the poor and the thugs and definitely not the dancing girls. He looked at Jarrod to bail him out again.

Jarrod saved him. "The people you see in Stockton are pretty much from the same mold – conservative, plainly dressed whether they're poor or rich. Working people, working with their hands and working with animals. And you have to remember, the population of Stockton is only a tiny fraction of the population of New York. You just don't see as many different of kinds of people as you see here."

Heath said, "I don't think you see even the variety of colors you see here in this room in all of Stockton."

"Sounds dull, doesn't it?" Jarrod said.

"Well," Amanda struggled to sound diplomatic. "It sounds – oh, well, yes, to us New York girls, it sounds dull."

They all laughed at her honesty.

"So, Jarrod, have you seen 'The Tempest' before?" Gail asked.

"Yes, I have, many years ago in Boston."

"What should we be looking for?"

"Well, it's a story about family – brothers who – betray their brothers," Jarrod said, looking at Heath. "The price they each have to pay because of the betrayals. One brother becomes a powerful sorcerer – the story is how he uses his powers to reverse those betrayals, and find a husband for his daughter in the bargain."

Heath and Jarrod shared a look. Yes, there had been betrayal between them even in the short five years they had been together – more than once, with Jarrod the betrayer for the most part and he knew it – but as in Shakespeare, they had worked it out in the end.

"Sounds like it's gonna be an interesting tale," Heath said. He raised his sherry. "Here's to brothers who work things out in the end."

"Here, here," Jarrod agreed as the rest of them raised their glasses.

XXXXXXXXXX

The experience at the theatre was beyond all Heath's expectations. He was totally amazed at how much he liked Shakespeare. Jarrod was right. Hearing the language spoken was completely different from reading it. It came alive, turned into poetry, and he could understand it!

Well, almost all of it. Some of the words by themselves meant nothing to him, but in the context of what he could understand, he was getting the gist of things. And he got the story, and he liked the acting and the sets and the costumes.

And he was riveted. The two sets of brothers – enemies, not friends. The duke betrayed by his brother and run out of his dukedom who became a wizard so great he could call up storms, and the magical sprite who did his bidding. The beautiful girl who had never seen a human being other than her father, the wizard. The crazy trio of the half-man half-beast and the two servants washed ashore in the storm. The young man washed ashore to fall in love with the girl. They all became real! Heath was fascinated, and happy to notice that Gail was, too.

Jarrod and Amanda both noticed and smiled to each other. "Your brother's having a wonderful time, isn't he?" Amanda asked.

"Seems so," Jarrod said. "And so is Gail. You know, there's nothing like seeing this play through their eyes. Kind of makes me remember the first time I saw it."

"Were you that enthralled?"

"I was. Well, I'd been reading Shakespeare plays for years before I ever saw one, and this was the first one I saw. That's why I was glad to see it was playing here tonight. It's Heath's first, too."

"You're a wonderful brother, to bring him here and show him around the big city."

"Uh – " Jarrod leaned in and spoke quietly. "I can't say I've always been a wonderful brother, and you might not say that if you saw some of the places I've taken him around here."

"The 'don't tell Mother' tour?"

Jarrod was astonished.

Amanda laughed. "That's what you were calling your visit the last time we were together!"

Jarrod felt caught. He didn't remember that. He was amazed that Amanda did. He shrugged helplessly.

Amanda laughed so hard she had to bury her face in Jarrod's arm to keep from disturbing the people around them, and Jarrod tried to stifle himself but only barely succeeded. When she finally stopped laughing, Amanda rested her head on Jarrod's shoulder, and he put his arm around her.

Jarrod looked at his brother for a while, wishing he had brought him to New York a lot sooner than this. His mind tried to drag in the times he'd been more the betrayer than the supportive brother, but he wouldn't let it. The betrayals could stay on the stage tonight. Heath was looking like he was having too good a time to let any regrets anywhere near them tonight.

As if he felt his brother's eyes on him, Heath looked over at Jarrod and gave him one of his lopsided smiles. Jarrod gave it back.

XXXXXXXX

The late dinner was light and wonderful, at a restaurant near the hotel they had shared drinks in. Jarrod was a bit flabbergasted that Heath wanted to talk so much about the play, asking questions about things he didn't quite follow and even about the history surrounding the play – did Shakespeare really believe the Americas would be populated by half-monsters like Caliban?

The discussion went on and on and Jarrod became more and more amazed that Heath liked the play so much. He couldn't have been happier – trying to talk Shakespeare with Nick had always been like trying to talk the law with – well, Nick. Even Eugene had always seemed to go cross-eyed when Jarrod tried to talk to him about Shakespeare or other literature. Suddenly, Jarrod had a brother who actually enjoyed some of the things he did.

Two separate carriages arrived to pick them up after dinner and to drive them back to the residence where the Barkley brothers would part with the ladies. But delightfully, they took the long way back – through the park, beautiful and tranquil in the warm early summer night air.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As they relaxed in the carriage together, Jarrod looked up at the stars peeking through the trees that lined the roads running through the park. He was about to say how happy he was that Amanda was free to see him this evening, how much he enjoyed the play and dinner, and how good it felt that she remembered him so fondly, but she spoke up first.

"I think I should tell you something, Jarrod," she said.

Jarrod looked over at her curiously.

"You know Clive checks out the men we see, and he's very good at uncovering things that aren't necessarily on the record," Amanda said.

Jarrod started to feel an uncomfortable crawling on his skin.

Amanda smiled at him. "I know that you were married, and widowed, and I was very sorry to hear that."

Jarrod looked away. She knew the rest, too.

"And I know what happened afterward, or at least what rumor in Stockton has about it," she said. "I put that together with the young man I knew years ago, and it didn't exactly fit, but at the same time, it did, and I decided to take a chance this evening anyway."

Jarrod looked back at her. "A chance. Despite the rumors."

"Yes."

"Let me ask you a question. You said the rumors didn't fit, but they did. What did you mean by that?"

Amanda rested her head back and looked at the stars. "The young man I remember was fresh from the war. He was passionate, and he was no stranger to violence, but he was also very gentle, and very gentlemanly. He was a man I could believe would become – well, let's say he could be overcome by his passions if his wife were, in fact, murdered in his arms. But it would take that much for him to become as violent as you are supposed to have become."

Jarrod hung his head. Even here in New York, he could not get away from a reputation he hated, but deserved.

"I did become violent," he confirmed. "But I would never hurt you, and under normal circumstances, I would never hurt anyone, even now, even after what happened when my wife was murdered. I have no excuse for what I did then. I was never charged with anything but I should have been. Instead, I pay for it over and over every day. You don't forget it when you've done what I've done, even if people don't remind you of it. You never forget it. Would you like me to take you straight home now, Amanda?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. I'd like to spend more time together."

"I get the feeling the world hasn't been entirely kind to you, either."

"You don't get to be our age with only kindness given to you. I was also married, eight years ago. My husband also died violently, but his murderers were never known. A dark alley after a late night in his office, and that was the end of my marriage, the end of the man I loved."

"I'm sorry," Jarrod said.

"I often tell myself that if I knew who killed him, I would find some way to make them pay. But, of course, that will never be. So, am I that different from you? I don't know."

Jarrod sighed and squeezed her hand. "Well, let's spend more time together, and reminisce about what we were like all those years ago, before the harder times."

Amanda began to laugh. "We were so young. Maybe like Gail and your brother are now."

Jarrod said, "Hard to believe now that we ever were that young."

"And now you're a lawyer. Do you enjoy it?"

"Oh, it has its ups and downs, like anything. It gets dangerous at times – but it's also rewarding, when you successfully defend someone who's innocent, or when you get a bill you really believe in passed by the legislature."

"So you're not sorry you didn't become a rancher like your father?"

"Well, my brother Nick is a better rancher than I'd ever be, and with Heath beside him – they do better by my father's legacy than I would have."

"You sound a little sorry about that."

"There was always a little bit of me that regretted not being able to be the first born son that my father wanted me to be, but on the other hand, I've saved the family a lot more in money than they spent sending me to law school. I have my place in the Barkley world, and I'm happy with it. How about you, Amanda? Are you happy? Do you wish life had gone differently for you?"

She lost some of her smile. "For a while, it was different, and it was what I wanted, but it didn't last. I don't have to tell you what that's like. Still, Clive has been very good to me. I've never run into trouble, never, and when my husband died and I needed somewhere to turn, some way to support myself, Clive was there. Yes, I'm happy. You don't need to have everything go the way you planned it to go to be happy."

Jarrod squeezed her hand and looked up at the stars with her. "We have grown a bit older and a bit wiser, haven't we? I like this you, as much as I liked the younger you."

Amanda smiled at him. "Scars and all?"

Jarrod smiled. "You take my scars, and I'll take yours."

That made her laugh. "You've got a deal, counselor."

The carriage Heath and Gail rode in was not that far behind them. They were not nearly as comfortable with each other as Jarrod and Amanda were, but of course, they did not have history on their side. Still, their brief conversations gave Heath a happy, warm feeling inside and made him feel very much at ease. Gail was lovely, and her smile lit up the night. There was something about her that made Heath feel like he was more sophisticated and learned than he really was, not a country hick at all.

Heath took Gail's hand in his as they drifted along through this gigantic park in the middle of a gigantic city, and when he leaned his head back to look at the stars, she leaned back, too, and they looked at the stars together.

Gail finally asked, "What are the stars like in California?"

"Oh, they're the same," Heath said, "but there are a lot more of them."

"Really?"

"I don't know why. I guess because it's a lot darker at night. But there are so many stars in the sky you can almost believe you can see your own shadow by them. And there's a belt of stars – more and more stars – that runs right through the other stars across the sky. It's the most beautiful sky you can imagine."

"Really?" Gail repeated. "And is the moon brighter?"

"Well, you can actually see your own shadow when the moon is full. You can even read a book by it if you want."

"You can? Wow."

Heath smiled at her "wow." "I guess you've always lived in the city."

Gail nodded. "My whole life. I don't meet many men from the west. All I understand about the west is from dime novels and Mark Twain."

"Well, I like dime novels and Mark Twain," Heath said. "And you can probably trust a lot of what Mark Twain says, but don't trust the dime novels."

"Not true?"

"Let's just say, they're exaggerated. I don't shoot many men, and I only do it to defend myself. I'll go for months without even taking my pistol out of the holster, and even then I'm more likely to shoot a snake than a man."

"And you do actually herd cattle?"

"I do. My brother Nick and I run the ranch, and we work just like all the other hands do. Nick got real jealous when Jarrod and I told him we were coming here together and he was gonna have to stay home and mind the cows."

Gail laughed. "What made you want to come to New York?"

"Never been here. Always wanted to see it. Always wanted to do this – ride in a carriage in the park with a beautiful girl."

Gail almost blushed. "I've never been to California. I've never been west of the Hudson River."

"You haven't?"

"No. No means to go, and no need to go anyway. Here in New York, we have everything we need, right around the next corner."

"No," Heath said, looking closely at her. "No, you don't. You don't have the open air, and you don't have all the stars in the sky. You don't have waterfalls and fresh mountain trout for breakfast. You don't have mountains that touch the sky and keep the snow until April and May."

"You'd better stop," Gail said with a wistful laugh. "I'm getting jealous."

"Well, if you ever decide you want to come see California, I hope you'll let me show it to you."

She looked at him more closely than she had before. He was genuine and sweet, something she wasn't used to seeing in a man she was only going to spend a few hours with. "I would like to come someday," she said. "And maybe I will see you again, and you can show me all those stars, and read me a book by the moonlight."

Heath thought hard before he asked the question, but then he asked it. "Is it all right to kiss you? Just a kiss."

Gail said, "I'd like that."

Heath took her chin in his hand and kissed her softly. "That's about the best kiss I ever had."

Gail laughed a little. "You really should be kissed more often then, Heath."

"Maybe," Heath said, leaning back to look at the stars again. "But I think I'd have to do a lot of kissing to get another one like that."

Too soon the carriage rides were over, and they were in front of the townhouse where they were to part company with the ladies. Arriving first, Jarrod helped Amanda out of the carriage and tipped the driver, who drove away. Before Heath and Gail arrived, Jarrod softly kissed Amanda, without asking.

"I've enjoyed this evening more than any I've had in a long time," he said. "I wish – "

Amanda put a finger to his lips before he could say anything more. "Romantic evenings are difficult to duplicate, Jarrod. Look how long it took us to repeat the magic."

Jarrod nodded, getting the message. "Nevertheless, if I'm lucky enough to come back to New York in a few years, I hope you'll let me ask Clive about you again."

"I would like that," Amanda said, "even if it's only one year."

By then, Heath and Gail had arrived, and Heath was helping Gail out of the carriage. He tipped the driver and the man drove on. To give them some privacy, Jarrod and Amanda began climbing the stairs to the front door.

Still holding Gail's hand after helping her from the carriage, Heath lifted it and kissed it. "Thank you, Gail. It was a very lovely evening. I'll never forget it."

"When the next full moon rolls around, I'll see if I can read a book by it," Gail said, "and whether or not I can, I'll think about you, Heath. Thank you for a lovely evening."

Heath escorted Gail up the stairs, where the butler already had the door open. The men were not to come in now. Goodbyes were left at the door. With one more kiss on the hand, the women stepped inside the townhouse, and the butler closed the door.

Both men sighed and slowly came down the stairs.

"I think I could almost move to this city for that girl," Heath said.

Jarrod chuckled. "I don't think she's ready to give up her profession anymore than Amanda is, nor are you ready to live here. You and I are just going to have to be satisfied with our fantasies."

"Good thing a man can dream," Heath said.


	9. Chapter 9 Epilogue

Epilogue

The next afternoon, Jarrod and Heath stood at the stern of the ferry taking them back across the Hudson and watched Manhattan slowly growing smaller. The train taking them back to California would be leaving in a little over an hour, but there would be no way for them to see the skyline again. And Heath knew that he would never come back here.

He remembered Jarrod saying how difficult it was when dreams come true, but then you lose them. This was not the same kind of dream Jarrod was talking about, but there was a bit of sadness in Heath's heart to leave New York. Just three days here had been more important to him than he ever thought they could be. Here he was, a poor kid from a worn out California mining town, dreaming someday of seeing the big city, and now he had, with an older brother he never dreamed he could have, but did. Even if it had to drift into a memory, like Manhattan was drifting into the horizon, it was a memory so worth having that Heath knew he would never let it go.

"Big brother," he said, putting his arm around Jarrod's shoulders, "I don't know how I'm ever gonna thank you for this."

Jarrod smiled. "Just remember all the things on the 'do not tell Mother' list, and whatever you do, don't write them down."

"Oh, yeah, the 'do not tell Mother' list. I almost forgot about that."

"Well, don't worry. I'll just give you an elbow in the ribs if you start to tell her something you shouldn't. Do you think you'll ever come back here?"

Heath shook his head. "Not too likely for a cowboy from California. Besides, some dreams, after they come true, are better left as just memories. They're just too special to repeat."

Jarrod immediately thought of Amanda. The repeat was as sweet as the first time, maybe even sweeter, but then, New York was Heath's dream, not his. To him, New York was real, very very real. He had happily repeated his visit to New York, and he privately planned to come back here yet again.

"We still have a long train trip home," Jarrod said.

"I can catch up on my sleep," Heath said.

Jarrod laughed. "Sorry to wear you out so bad, little brother."

Heath shook his head and smiled. "I'm not." Then, impulsively, he blew a kiss across the water. "So long, New York!" he called. "It's been one helluva good time!"

And he happily let the dream turn into a memory. It was time to go home.

THE END


End file.
